


A Commanding Presence

by Gallicenae



Series: Fic Challenge [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dad Alistair, F/M, Family, Fluff, Political Intrigue, Royal Wardens, a day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallicenae/pseuds/Gallicenae
Summary: Two years after the Blight, Alistair is still struggling to attend to some of his kingly duties, though the reason may not be as obvious as you think.





	A Commanding Presence

**Author's Note:**

> \- Day 1 of A Month of Fanfiction challenge  
> \- Prompt: Fluff  
> \- Depending how a few things go, I will either move this to it's own series to be called "Royal Wardens" or add it as a chapter in "Sacrifices".

Caerlyn clasped her hands in front of her as the final few in what had been a long line of nobles presented their grievances. She had never had much patience for political insult or intrigue, but she had far more experience with it than Alistair. The nobles knew her, and a familiar face on the throne counted for something, especially in the aftermath of Loghain’s betrayal and his daughter’s machinations. Still, Alistair wasn’t going to learn anything if he didn’t take the time to face his people. 

“But you’re _so good_ at that sort of thing,” he’d begged earlier that morning, kissing Caerlyn’s hands to soften her.

“Alistair, you can’t spend all your time playing with Leon.” He was a doting father, and Caerlyn understood why, but dear Maker, the missives requiring his attention were piling up in the study.

“But look at him! He’s so _cute!”_ Her husband dangled their son in front of her, Leon’s cheeks smiling and rosy.

Caerlyn took their son and placed him back on the floor with her mabari, Darius. “Yes, he is. But he doesn’t get that from you.” 

“How could you even say such a thing?” Alistair jutted his chin upward to catch the light. “Look at this face!”

She’d grabbed his chin in one hand and squeezed her husband’s cheeks together with her fingers. “Alistair. If the king does not wish to do _all_ of his kingly duties, the queen will find herself a new bedchamber.” Caerlyn smirked the warning, her eyebrow raised in challenge.

“-they dispute our claim, but that land was given to my family for services during the time of Queen Fionne! My lady it-”

The title brought Caerlyn’s attention back to the throne room. She hadn’t been addressed as ‘my lady’ since the Blight, and even then she’d heard ‘warden’ far more often. The nobles and court hushed their chattering immediately.

A steward rushed over to the young man, in far more distress than Caerlyn believed was required. He whispered an aside to the visiting Bann, whom immediately bowed low while hurriedly offering his sincere apologies. 

“Your Majesty, the-” The steward hastily tried to salvage the insult, but Caerlyn waved him off and stood. 

“Raise your eyes Bann Garun and be well.” It had taken her a moment to recall the line that currently held the Winter’s Breath bannorn, and the names that came to mind were of old men and women. “How is your father?”

The Bann bowed, a courtesy stiff with unease. “He passed, Majesty. Last winter.”

Caerlyn raised him gently by the shoulders. “I am sorry to hear it so late. Losing those you love is never an easy thing.”

She gestured to the steward, signaling she was finished with the court, before giving a nod of her head to those in attendance. Her hand was still on Bann Garun’s shoulder as she invited him to walk with her.

“You have never been to court, have you my lord?”

“No, ma’am.” The young man pushed up the cuffs of his sleeves, too long to have been meant for him. “I-I’m sorry for not addressing you properly before.”

“I will not fault you for learning.” Caerlyn guided him through the passages of the keep, keeping one step ahead to not cause the new lord any undue stress about propriety. “Tell me of your family.”

“Pardon?”

“My older brother, Fergus, he was groomed to be my father’s heir. They spent their nights discussing political alliances and the like.” Caerlyn smiled over her shoulder. “I never had much taste for it.”

She noticed the blush that spread across the young lord’s beardless face, but said nothing about it. “But here I am. Love and duty have a way of coming together to take you places you’d never thought you’d be.”

They circled the inner courtyard for a time before Bann Garun felt comfortable enough to address Caerlyn’s initial request.

“It was supposed to be my brother as well, Majesty. I was meant for the Chantry.”

“You may still have that life, if you wish.”

“No, ma’am. I thank you, but no. I have my little sister to look after, and it wouldn’t do to leave her with such a burden at her age.” 

“And your grievance, that your family’s land is being contested, I assume that is to secure your position in the eyes of your people?”

He gave her a meek sound of defeat in response. She assumed he cared little about the holdings of Winter’s Breath other than the fact that he must. And if Bann Garun had as little exposure as he let on, he would need guidance to ensure the other lords did not move against him.

“How long will you be in Denerim, my lord?”

Bann Garun stopped, his mouth open as he considered the question. “Eh, Majesty, I...”

Caerlyn leaned in. “You may say ‘until my business is concluded’ in passing, especially when in the company of other nobles. But as we are in each other’s confidence here, I will suggest a month, if you are able to manage it.”

“Of course my la-Majesty.”

“Good.” Caerlyn smiled, a warmer one than she was usually seen wearing during court. “Now, there is someone I’d like you to meet.”

 

\----

 

“And then the Archdemon let out a giant RAAAAWWWWWRRRR and your mother-” Alistair looked up from his clawed hands with wide eyes as Caerlyn stepped through the doorway. “And, and your mother was very far away, perfectly safe, not in a major battle where she could have died at all because you were in her belly and you are the most precious...” 

The king caught sight of a young man behind his wife and flushed a bright pink, hurriedly bringing his hands down and clearing his throat. “Yes, well, I was just, erm, relaying the events of that great battle for, um, posterity. Because that’s a thing, we um, do.”

Caerlyn shook her head and fully stepped into their son’s nursery. “Bann Garun, allow me to introduce his Majesty, King Alistair, slayer of his small Highness’s nightmares.”

“Yes,” Alistair cleared his throat a second time, standing to his full height and extending his hand. 

The young lord looked from Alistair to Leon and back to the king’s extended hand, a mix of confusion, amusement, and anxious horror. 

“Oh! Oh, right.” The king made a fist and shook it slightly before nodding and pointing a finger to the sky, as if he just remembered an important secret. “Ahem, my lord, I imagine you have some business to-to, ah, discuss.”

Caerlyn shook her head and grinned, directing her attentions back to the young lord. “Bann Garun, your lands will remain as they have been since they were bequeathed to your family.”

“Majesty?” Garun pulled at his cuffs again. “Isn’t there, ah, something I must offer, or assuage you of in return?”

“What, for saying you can keep what you already have?” Alistair asked. “No, not at all. That would be-”

“Considerate of you.” Caerlyn cast a disapproving side-eye at her husband. “His Majesty would not refuse what fealty Winter’s Breath would offer.”

“My bannorn is not what is was before the Blight, but I am certain we can-”

“My lord, please keep the resources you have to continue supporting your people. Use them to rebuild. We ask nothing more from you save that you remain here for a month each year until we wish otherwise.”

“We do?”

“Alistair.”

“We do!” Alistair took a step forward and grasped both of Garun’s shoulders, giving them a firm and friendly squeeze. He looked over his shoulder at his wife and smiled. It was the one that simultaneously asked her if he was doing something right while also hoping she’d be pleased at his attempt. 

“To govern your holdings properly and understand the court, you will be in need of a tutor. As it happens, so is his Majesty.”

 

\---

 

Alistair propped his chin up against Caerlyn’s abdomen, a pout forming on his face. “I can’t believe you told Bann Garun I needed a tutor to perform my kingly duties.”

Caerlyn rolled her eyes and pulled the furs from their bed over his head. “You _do._ ”

“But Eamon-” His protest came out muffled.

“Eamon is looking after Isolde now that she is with child again. Teagan has taken up many of his brother’s duties already.” 

Alistair awkwardly tossed the covers aside. “They said I was ready.”

“Love, you’ve been ready. You’re just... easily distracted.” She nudged his side with a foot.

“Well of course I am!” He returned indignantly, grabbing hold of Caerlyn’s leg and pressing kisses up her ankle to her knee. “Who wouldn’t be with this most beautiful, most frustratingly cunning, and fierce queen for a wife?”

He moved to balance over her with his widest grin plastered across his face, pleased with his mix of compliments and small pleasures. Alistair lowered himself just enough to kiss the top of Caerlyn’s nose, reveling in the moment she broke her stern exterior to laugh lightly at his touch.

“You’re not getting out of it, Alistair.”

He hung his head in mock defeat and rolled over to his back. “UGH. I thought I was supposed to be the trophy husband!”

“Mmm, you are, but no one else is supposed to know that.” Caerlyn kissed his cheek. “Besides, Garun isn’t much younger than you were when you became king. Helping him will help you stay focused, and I suspect it will bring him some comfort as well.”

“Did you trap him in this to ensure his loyalty?”

“Would it matter if I did, if it turns out to benefit both parties in the end?”

“There she is!” Alistair exclaimed, reaching for his wife. “Queen of my Dreams, Mother of my Child, Conniving Cousland of my Heart!” 

The titles were punctuated with Alistair’s lips, his hands finding the spots where she was most ticklish. The pair scuffled between the sheets, trading softened insults with each other until Caerlyn wrestled her way atop him.

“Do you yield?” Her hair fell in pieces around her shoulders, loosed from the braids which had been pinned earlier in the day.

Alistair was cocky beneath her, his eyebrows raised in invitation. “Are you planning to make me if I say no?”

Caerlyn leaned over her husband, a devilish smirk dropping smoothly into the stern expression she wore when holding court. She saw the corner of his mouth twitch in response, and she reached to caress his jaw before holding it tight to look up at her. 

“Would you like me to?”

Alistair blushed such a deep shade of crimson that Caerlyn couldn’t contain herself. Her head flew back as she laughed, clutching her sides as tightly as her knees clutched her husband’s torso. 

“Oh Maker, Alistair! Is that-” She looked at down at him, “Is that why you don’t like sitting in court with me?”

He didn’t make any move to release himself from under her, but Alistair brought his hands up and ran them down his face. He hoped it’d wipe the flush away. “Well... well, you just have a _very_ commanding presence! And I, well, you know, I...”

Caerlyn jabbed a finger against his chest, delighted in her discovery. “And you like it!”

“What, you really think I followed you all these years because I liked staring at your swaying hips - hindquarters?”

She readjusted her position atop her husband, bringing her arms up over his chest to support her chin, eager to hear what hole he’d be digging himself into tonight.

“Well I did, I mean do, but you’re, ergh. You’re-”

“I love it when you get this frustrated.”

“Yes.” He drew out in a mock sneer. “You would.”

He grabbed her and tossed her over so quickly, Caerlyn let out a shriek in a surprise. Alistair grabbed hold of her arms, pinning them to her sides as he aimed straight for the scar on her stomach.

“No!” She cackled. “Don’t you even dare t-”

“BBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLIIIIIPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTT!”

“ALISTAIR!!!” 

He kept on giving her raspberries until he caught her laughter as well and had no more breath in him to give her another. 

 


End file.
